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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923659">The Bird Told the Tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya'>Sword_Kallya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Drug Use, Angst, Damian Wayne is Robin, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is Red Hood, So much angst, abuse recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:21:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>We have a secret, just we three,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The robin, and I, and the sweet cherry-tree;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The bird told the tree, and the tree told me,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And nobody knows it but just us three.</em>
</p>
<p>Jason’s helmet isn’t a cherry, and the marijuana they accidentally burned isn’t a tree, but apparently Damian doesn’t care.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Bird Told the Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My deepest apologies to anyone who speaks Farsi. The translation of “library” was taken from <a href="https://www.languagedrops.com/word/en/english/persian/translate/library/">Drops</a> and the romanization produced by yours truly using the <a>UniPers</a> romanization system. Anyone who speaks Farsi is welcome to provide corrections.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“B needs to chill. The warehouse is barely on fire.”</p>
<p>“Beautiful,” murmured a voice next to Red Hood. A voice, which was speaking in <em>Farsi.</em> “Like ink spilled in water.”</p>
<p>If you had asked Hood three minutes earlier, he would have said he’d eat the magazine out of his gun before Robin would say something that sentimental for anything less than severe torture. He thought back to what had been in the now-flaming section of the building.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>“Oracle,” he snapped into his comm. “Oracle, I need you to get me Nightwing <em>right now.”</em></p>
<p>“Hood, first off, how did you get this frequency? Second, what the heck, why? N is all the way in Bludhaven and he’s taking the night off.”</p>
<p>“Call him anyway. This is important.” Jason snapped his fingers to get Robin’s attention, then jerked his thumb directly downwards. The little shit could be high at ground level.</p>
<p>Robin’s response was to sit his ass down on the gargoyle. Dammit.</p>
<p>“I’m not calling Nightwing without a <em>very good reason.”</em> Jason hissed in annoyance and reverted to hand signals. <em>Ground level. Now.</em></p>
<p>“I’ve got a good reason, <em>Barbie.</em> It’s four foot nine and wearing a bright yellow cape.” Damian apparently decided that the best way down, instead of the <em>perfectly serviceable</em> fire escape or the grappling hook Jason <em>knew</em> he had, was to slide down the gutter pipe. “Dammit, kid, <em>no!”</em> he swore, grasping fingers missing the cape by inches. And that sound was definitely a giggle, as the kid flew through the air. If he hadn’t known the brat was high already, that would have decided it.</p>
<p>“It’s <em>Robin?</em> I’m calling B.” At least the kid had sat down once he hit the ground.</p>
<p>“No, <em>no,</em> do <em>not</em> call B! O, please do not call B. I will come to your house and fill your shoes with shaving cream.”</p>
<p>“Not until you give me more information. <em>What. Happened. To. Robin?”</em></p>
<p>“Robin, say hi to Oracle.” Jason finally made it to ground level to find the little demon playing with one of the explosive batarangs. Jason snatched it out of his hands and yeah, he never would have gotten away with that on a regular day. He ignored the furious shriek stealing it earned him. “You can have it back once you talk to O.”</p>
<p>“Hood, what the–” Barbara began, but Damian cut her off.</p>
<p>“Why do you allow B – Fatgirl to be Batgirl?”</p>
<p>“…What,” Barbara said flatly. Jason agreed with her.</p>
<p>“You are still a member of the team,” Damian argued. “You run comms every night. You help us investigate cases. Father respects your input. Why would you give up the Batgirl mantle?” He was now staring directly into the flickering streetlight.</p>
<p>“Kid, I’m in a wheelchair, in case you didn’t notice.”</p>
<p>“You created the Batgirl mantle. If you say it is a support position like Agent A, then it is.”</p>
<p>“…Hood.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, O?”</p>
<p>“Is he drugged.”</p>
<p>“Busting a warehouse went wrong. Something caught fire. We have a <em>very</em> high little birdie on our hands right now.”</p>
<p>Beneath the green domino mask, Damian’s nose scrunched. “I am sitting on the ground.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god.” There was a muffled snicker. “Oh my <em>god.”</em></p>
<p>“Can you please, <em>please</em> call Nightwing,” Jason begged. “Robin, that isn’t what high means here.”</p>
<p>“English is stupid.”</p>
<p>Barbara finally broke down and started to laugh. “I’m calling him, I’m calling him. Head to the uptown safehouse, and I want video.” Hood’s helmet lit up with a map to the Penthouse. Thank the powers that be for Babs and her magic.</p>
<p>“I want shirin polow.”</p>
<p>“The fuck is shirin polow.”</p>
<p>“Todd, your taste is abysmal.”</p>
<p>“Names, Robin,” Oracle said absently. “Shirin polow, S-H-I-R-I-N P-O-L-O-W. A common Iranian dish made from rice and raisins. There’s a 24-hour restaurant on Wesson that serves it. Corner with 32<sup>nd</sup>.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best, O,” Jason said. “C’mon, kid, helmet.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like helmets.” The brat tried to climb on the bike anyway. He squawked when Jason yanked him back off.</p>
<p>“Nope. Helmet, or you get to walk all the way there, you little stoner.”</p>
<p>“Mother never insisted on helmets.” Was that a pout on the kid’s lips? Maybe he was a real ten-year-old after all.</p>
<p>“Mother also made you climb mountains with broken limbs. Helmet.” Jason plonked the kiddie-size motorcycle helmet on Robin’s head. “I don’t start the bike ‘til it’s buckled.”</p>
<p>That took much longer than Jason had expected. Apparently, Damian could scale a building in under ten seconds, but he couldn’t buckle the helmet without pinching his fingers. Damian gave up and grumped while Jason buckled and adjusted it for him. “Helmets require far too much effort. I see why I was never trained with them.”</p>
<p>Jason opened his mouth to comment on safety gear and why the League of Assassins might not use them, but for once in his life thought better of it. Damian would either try to stab him or run for it if he did, and if Jason lost the gremlin at this point Dick would actually murder him. “Alright, now on the bike.”</p>
<p>Damian’s face lit. “I’ll drive!”</p>
<p><em>“No.”</em> Jason had to physically haul the kid off the front of the bike, <em>again.</em> “I’m driving.”</p>
<p>“I know how!”</p>
<p>“I know you know how, but right now you’ll probably crash us chasing after a puppy. I’m driving.”</p>
<p>Jason was wrong. Damian didn’t crash the bike chasing a stray, he <em>jumped off of it.</em></p>
<p><em>“Fuck!”</em> Jason screeched his bike in an illegal U-turn, cutting off a taxi that shouldn’t have been tailgating him anyway. “Get back here, brat!”</p>
<p>“I don’t take orders from you, Hood!” The little demon bolted down a side alley too small for Jason to follow without ripping something important off the bike. He abandoned it, trusting his modifications to keep it from being stolen. He sprinted down the alley–</p>
<p>And nearly slammed into Damian’s back. Damian had stopped in front of the dumpster for a run-down diner and had his face shoved up against it, trying to pry something out from underneath. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He pulled a few strips of jerky from a pouch on his belt and reached back under, murmuring soothing nonsense.</p>
<p>“Oh my god, you already have like <em>four pets,</em> Bats is going to kill you if you bring another one home.” Jason grabbed Damian by the back of the cape and yanked him back.</p>
<p>Of course, he’d already gotten his hands on the kitten by then. Jason sighed. “Fine, but you get to talk Agent A into letting you keep it. Let’s go.” He started dragging the kid back to the bike.</p>
<p>“I’m hungry, and so is the kitten.” There was a <em>bonk</em> as Damian’s helmet collided with Jason’s back. “Are we going to the restaurant now?”</p>
<p>“Fine, yes, we’re going to the restaurant. Now take the kitten and <em>get on the bike.</em> God, you’re needy when you’re high.”</p>
<p>“I called in an order of shirin polow to the restaurant,” Oracle said over comms. “Paid on B’s dime.”</p>
<p>“O, you’re a godsend,” Jason said. “Route me?”</p>
<p>“You know it.”</p>
<p>Damian was oddly quiet the rest of the way to the restaurant, only whispering soft words to the kitten. Jason was concerned. The kid had been so enthusiastic earlier. Had something gone wrong?</p>
<p>“So, you like this shirin polow stuff a lot, huh?” Jason asked after several minutes of silence. Honestly, the only reason he was still sure the brat was on the bike was because there were still little arms wrapped around him.</p>
<p>“Shirin polow is Grandfather’s favorite,” Damian said. Jason was pretty sure that the bumping he felt was Damian cuddling the cat close. Protectively.</p>
<p>Protecting it from Jason?</p>
<p>
  <em>Christ.</em>
</p>
<p>“If you like something else better, we can order that instead,” Jason pointed out. There was the distinct sensation of a little body shuddering against his. “Or… not?”</p>
<p>Damian said, in the kind of hyper-precise voice he used when arguing with Bruce, “I will have shirin polow.” Jason had apparently, somehow, screwed up royally.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he said instead of arguing. Trauma victim, he had to remember the kid was a trauma victim as well as a bitty assassin. What would he do for a trauma victim in this situation? “Do you want to go in and get it, or should I?”</p>
<p>“I will fetch it.” Damian hopped off the bike before it stopped moving, prompting Jason to swear loudly at him. He returned promptly with the takeout box in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other.</p>
<p>Jason considered his options. He could try to persuade Damian to give him the kitten, but if his behavior earlier was any indication, that wouldn’t end well. With the way he was cradling the cup, too– “How about you stick the food and the stuff from one of your pouches in the storage compartment, so the kitten can ride with you while you hold your drink?”</p>
<p>Damian glared at him – or maybe not. The mask made it kind of hard to tell. Jason would have given his left arm at that point to know what the kid was thinking.</p>
<p>Eventually, he nodded. “An intelligent suggestion.” Jason popped the lid on the storage compartment and shuffled his ammo boxes around until there was space for the takeout container. Damian carefully put the container inside and then dumped out a pocket of forensic equipment so the kitten could ride safely.</p>
<p>Leaving him all his weapons and medical equipment in case he needed to fight. Paranoia, thy name is Wayne. Or al Ghul. Same difference.</p>
<p>Damian didn’t even mention driving as they got back on and he wrapped one arm around Jason’s waist. Jason felt like that was probably a bad sign.</p>
<p>Jason took the rest of the way back to the penthouse relatively slow, to account for the kitten. He hated it. He especially hated the way Damian’s arm tensed more the longer they rode. The weed should have been <em>relaxing</em> him. If he was scared enough to still tense up… Or was he <em>always</em> this scared, and just too good at controlling his reactions to show it? Both options were bad.</p>
<p>Jason got them into the Penthouse’s basement and changed. Damian had a stale-smelling set of pajamas down there, so he handed them to the kid and showered until he stopped smelling gun oil.</p>
<p>When he got out, the kid was already dressed, thank whatever gods looked out for crazy murder-vigilantes. He carted kid, food, and kitten into the elevator and prayed that Damian would stay calm and quiet until Dick got there. Dick actually <em>liked</em> the gremlin, God only knew why. Let this be his problem.</p>
<p>But by the time they were settled at the table in the Penthouse kitchen, Damian with his chai, shirin polow, and towel-wrapped kitten and Jason with a beer that was too expensive for tasting that crap, the silence was getting to be too much. “So, what’s this shirin polow stuff, huh? I’ve never had it.”</p>
<p>An American kid, raised on <em>sharing is caring,</em> would probably have offered Jason a bite. Damian instead curled around the Styrofoam takeout dish like he was worried Jason would try to take it away.</p>
<p>The standoff lasted almost a minute, as Damian visibly searched Jason’s face. Jason remembered doing almost this exact thing in the Manor’s kitchen, looking at Alfred and Bruce for any sign that they were angry at him. He wondered what Damian was looking for.</p>
<p>It took a while, but eventually Damian felt safe enough to start eating again. “It was Grandmother’s favorite,” he said between bites. He had a much stronger accent now than when they’d taken down the warehouse.</p>
<p>Wait. Hold up. “Grandmother? As in Ra’s, what… wife?” Jason couldn’t imagine the old zombie married, but Talia had to have come from somewhere, he guessed.</p>
<p>Damian nodded. He shoved another bite of rice in his mouth before he continued. “No one in the League would ever dare poison it. Grandfather would kill them. Slowly.”</p>
<p>Jason bit his tongue on some words that would have Alfred reaching for the swear jar. He wondered if he should be taking notes on the concerning shit the gremlin kept saying. “Just so Dickface wouldn’t be walking blind into what was so clearly a minefield. “Hey, gremlin, do you know where Alf keeps the scrap paper in this joint?”</p>
<p>“Mmph.” The kid had to take a moment. “In the <em>gitabxanh.”</em> He pointed towards an open door, which was good, because Jason had no clue what the hell that word meant. He stood–</p>
<p>Damian went very still. “You’re leaving?”</p>
<p>“Just going to get some scrap paper. I’ll be right back,” Jason promised. He’d have expected that reaction from a high <em>Tim,</em> maybe, but not Damian. Then again, he wouldn’t have expected the kid to pick food based on <em>likelihood of poisoning</em> either, so what did he know.</p>
<p>“You will return?” Damian’s voice was small. The way he shrunk down in his seat, all of him was small.</p>
<p>“In just a minute.”</p>
<p>Damian stabbed at his food with a fork like it had personally wronged him. “Hurry back,” he ordered with some of his usual arrogance. Jason let him have it. He ducked into the room Damian had pointed him towards – which turned out to be a “mini” version of the library in the Manor. It was still bigger than half Jason’s safehouses. He grabbed a few sheets of notebook paper off a desk and a pen.</p>
<p>Once he was back in the kitchen, Jason slugged down the rest of his beer and went to get another. Then he sat down and started writing down his observations. The food, the abandonment, the way Damian had reacted to being called needy…</p>
<p>Jason’s phone pinged. “Dick’s on his way to come get you,” he said.</p>
<p>Damian went very still for a long moment. Then he put down his plastic fork. “If that is your decision then–” the kid gulped. “–I will do what is asked of me.”</p>
<p>That… did not sound good. “What do you think is going to happen when Dick gets here?”</p>
<p>“I allowed myself to be compromised by drugs. It would be unwise not to take advantage of the opportunity presented.” Damian was sitting ramrod straight. It was like looking at a little robot.</p>
<p>It had been a very long time since Jason had had to worry about Willis, but he still knew the look of a kid expecting to be hit. “You’re not in trouble for getting a lungful of weed, kiddo. Especially since <em>I</em> was the one who set the warehouse on fire.”</p>
<p>“We must be prepared for combat under any circumstances,” Damian recited. “It is only to be expected that training for a situation that has just arisen–”</p>
<p>“Hey, no,” Jason cut him off. “No training tonight. You’re just gonna sleep this off, okay?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Damian said like he was reacting to an order. Jason felt like banging his head off a wall.</p>
<p>“Anyway, Dick’s gonna be here soon, so you can… I don’t know, watch a movie? Whatever you two do when someone’s upset.”</p>
<p>Damian didn’t relax. “Grayson enjoys animated films.”</p>
<p>Jason waited. Usually, Damian couldn’t be waited out, but right now…</p>
<p>“Are you going to leave?”</p>
<p>Okay, not the argument Jason was expecting. “Not until Dick gets here. He’ll be up in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>“Mother always–” Damian cut himself off and ducked his head. His hands, folded in his lap, trembled.</p>
<p>Jason put a lot of effort into keeping his voice gentle. “Mother always what?”</p>
<p>“I – I understand that I am being difficult, but–”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey no,” Jason cut that off at the pass. “You’re not being difficult. I just want to know what your mom used to do, that’s all.”</p>
<p>Damian ducked his head, just slightly. “She said whenever I was being difficult, I would be sent back to my current teacher until I could learn respect.”</p>
<p>“Okay, that’s…” <em>extremely fucked up </em>“Not what’s going on here. You’re not being difficult. And I can stay. if you want me to.” Jason had been planning to skip out as soon as Dick got there, but… well, Talia had screwed over a lot more people than just her kid.</p>
<p>Damian didn’t ask, but his shoulders relaxed just slightly. That decided it. Jason stood and stretched. “Come help me figure out the media room? If we get it set up before Dickface gets here, we might even get out of watching Disney.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dick comes in to find two of his brothers cuddling on the couch and kibbitzing an action movie. He jump-hugs them both. There is screaming involved.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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